The House of Drought by Dennis Mombauer

Author:Dennis Mombauer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: climate change; haunted house; Sri Lanka; folklore; colonization
ISBN: 978-1-7770917-9-8
Publisher: Stelliform Press
Published: 2022-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

The car stopped at the edge of the village cricket field, where the outskirts of town blended into the paddies. Lakshi got out and opened her umbrella to protect herself from the glaring sun.

A youth team was practicing on the field, and the wind carried their excited shouting to the road. A path led past the field and snaked toward a house with a thatched roof, flanked by waist-high grass and palm bushes. A crane eyed Lakshi from the paddy fields beyond, and she took a second to admire the elegance of its slender neck and folded white wings.

“Mrs. Wickranakkara? Do you want me to come with you?” The driver rolled down his window and put on a pair of sunglasses. “You don’t know what people they are, madam.”

“No, I’ll talk to them alone. Wait here for me—I’ll be back soon. Please find some shade to park in.” Lakshi climbed down from the road and followed the path to the house, a small brick building with unpainted walls. Mosquitoes buzzed over dry rice stalks, and the heat baked her skin through the thin protection of the umbrella.

The path was longer than she’d thought, and she was relieved to finally reach the house. A girl sat on the porch and looked up in surprise, putting aside the book she was reading. “Who are you, Miss? What do you want?”

Lakshi wasn’t used to being addressed in so abrupt a manner, but she smiled nonetheless. “Hello, little girl,” she said with a nod. She studied the milky spots covering the girl’s face like a pale cluster of chicken pox blisters. “I’m Mrs. Wickranakkara. I live in the mansion at the edge of the forest. Are your parents home?”

“Only my mother. What do you want, Mrs. Wickranakkara?” The girl was maybe twelve, but she crossed her arms like an adult and curled her lips. “Normally strangers don’t come by uninvited.”

“Mandari! What’s going on, huh?” A woman with an apron appeared in the open door. “Excuse her, madam, she’s just a child. And one that’s too smart for her own good, isn’t it? I’ve told you a thousand times to address people with respect, no?”

Lakshi couldn’t help but smile. Baduka didn’t talk to people, but she could certainly see Kavith pulling a stunt like this, trying to emulate his father’s power. “It’s no worry, please. I have two kids myself, I know how it goes. And I am not a stranger anymore, little Mandari, I am Mrs. Wickranakkara. We are almost neighbors, aren’t we?”

The mother’s glance shifted uneasily from the girl to Lakshita. “You live in the haunted house? The lonely mansion?”

“I wouldn’t call it haunted, but yea.” Lakshi squinted in the direction she’d come—were the driver and his car visible from the farmhouse? It was such a long walk back down the road. “We moved there a few weeks ago. It’s a nice place, very big, and full of hidden corners.”

“Yea. Very big. Mandari, why don’t you go inside? Just stir the pot on the stove.

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